


Under the Window

by Sophie_Of_Tarth



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-18
Updated: 2015-06-18
Packaged: 2018-04-04 23:55:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4157766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sophie_Of_Tarth/pseuds/Sophie_Of_Tarth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The picture is of Jaime looking up at the window of Brienne's apartment laughing to himself because she stuck her head out the window to yell at him and her hair is a mess and he told her to get dressed and get her ass down there, that he got them swords to play with and she's flabbergasted and looks all excited and she's ducked back inside to get dressed and he just can't stop looking at her window.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under the Window

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ikkiM](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ikkiM/gifts).



Jaime shifted from one foot to the other, crossed his arms and looked up at Brienne’s window for the umpteenth time.

“Come on Brienne!” Jaime muttered under his breath.

_Where the hell was she?_

At his feet was a large holdall containing the two valyrian steel swords he promised he’d borrow from his family armoury so that they could practice properly. It had been easier than he had thought it would be to smuggle them out, yet Jaime still looked up and down the street before surreptitiously nudging the holdall with the side of his foot, a reluctant grin creasing his dawn chilled cheeks at the thought of being caught with a couple of yards of lethal valyrian steel in his possession. It wasn’t so long ago that people actually fought over matters of honour for real on the streets of Kings Landing with the damn things and the watch wouldn’t be happy if they caught him, even in this day and age.

_Come on Brienne!_

When Brienne had stuck her head out of the window a few moments earlier to yell at him for throwing handfuls of tiny stones at her window, her pale straw-like hair had been stuck out at all angles, making it look for the world as if she’d been hung upside down like a bat all night and he hadn’t been able to swallow the knot of laughter that unravelled at the sight of his ugly, be-freckled wench.

“What the… Lannister! Lannister… why in the seven are you standing outside my window at…” she screwed her eyes up to try and focus on the non existent watch on her wrist, “what is the time?” she finally wailed.

“Time for you to get dressed and get your ass down here, because….” and at that point he opened the bag to reveal the glistening treasure within.

Jaime thought for a moment she was going to topple head first into the street  In fact he was so convinced that that was going to be the outcome of her sudden fascination with the contents of his bag, that he dropped one handle of the holdall thinking he might actually try and catch her if she fell.

_I’ll probably be crushed but at least I’ll die happy._

Jaime needn’t have worried, she snapped her wide open mouth shut as she went to dash back into her room, then she thought again and put her head out of the window once more to tell him, “don’t move Jaime. Wait for me.”

So he waited.

And waited… and waited…

_Where was she?_

He crossed his arms again… he could almost hear the minutes ticking away as he stared up at her window, willing her to stick her head out of the window once more and give him a reason why she was taking an age to get ready.

_It would be impossible to find anywhere private to spar once the residents of Kings Landing started to stir in earnest._

_Particularly with real valyrian steel._

“Brienne?” he called up in a half whisper, “Brienne?”

No answer.

“Brienne!”

_Was something wrong?_

Within three steps he was at the front door to Brienne’s flats, pressing all the door buzzers until one kind soul let him in. Jaime leapt at the stairs, two at a time, until he slid to a halt at her front door.

Jaime hammered on the wooden panels there, “Brienne!”

He could hear a squawking sound from within that sounded like Brienne was in trouble.

Backing up, one, two, three steps. eyeing the door with a view to kicking it down, he was surprised in the process of taking the deep breaths needed to power such an effort when Brienne suddenly threw the door open to him.

Bright red, she scowled fiercely at him before  staring down at her hips and pulling at the zipper of her jeans with a furious snort of exasperation.

“They’re stuck, my favourite… maybe I’ve washed them too much, maybe I’ve worn them too much…”

_His wench was trapped in her breeches._

“Why wear these?” Jaime tried to focus on the zip and not laugh, but as Brienne was hopping up and down in an effort to get the jammed zipper to move, that was easier said than done.

“Because they are my favourites!” she wailed, still doing her hopping, jumping dance in an effort to make the zip work.

“Try lying on your bed.”

“I’ve tried lying on my bed and it didn’t work!… But I’m sure if I could just get the angle right…,” with a face like an overripe tomato Brienne did her best try and finesse the zip from an upright position.

Jaime looked at her for a split second , “you must have another pair, surely.”

He moved behind her, refusing to be distracted by the smooth pale skin or the fresh smell of her, and put his hands around her waist before knocking her hands away from the zip with his own as he took control.

Brienne suddenly froze as his arms moved to encircle her, gripping her firmly even as they pulled her back against his chest.

“And how are you going to do anything with your right hand injured?” Brienne asked him awkwardly, as Jaime reflected that holding her was not unlike trying to hug a plank of wood.

“If it really can be finessed, I just need to hold the material in place,” he said as he attempted to ease the zip either up… or down, “besides you weren’t asking me that five minutes ago when you caught sight of the contents of my bag.”

Jaime felt the body in his arms stiffen as she registered his words, “I wasn’t implying…”

“I’m not offended wench,” he growled against her neck, “so please don’t go all polite on me.”

He wiggled the zip, pulling it slightly up, scratched at the teeth just below with the fingernail of his left hand and then tried to gently ease it down.

“What are you doing now?” Brienne finally asked him, her voice now having acquired a raw edge that Jaime took to be frustration.

“Trying to get the bloody zip to move,” Jaime murmured in the ear situated so conveniently close to his mouth.

“Maybe I should try,” she told him, her breath very short. Jaime loosened his arms slightly not wanting to suffocate her.

“You’ve tried,” he told her, “and now so have I, but it’s not shifting is it?”

“No,” Brienne croaked, moving her head slightly so that one strand of brittle blonde hair fell against his eyelid, enough to make him blink, Pausing a moment to think, he rested his nose briefly against her cheek as he thought on what they might try next.

Brienne seemed to have her own idea, as she drew in a deep and ragged breath, “you can let me go now.”

“Oh… yes,” but before he released the hold on her jeans, he seized the material (so much better with his left hand than his right) and tugged hard.

The zipper tag parted company from the jeans and flew across the small living space to hit the floorboards with a satisfying, “ping!”

“No!” she objected furiously, her face even redder than before, “these are my favourite jeans. These are...were... the only ones long enough to reach my shoes..my ankles even!”

“It’s only the stupid zip, wench!” Jaime snorted, “I’ll get them fixed.”

He eyed the furious blonde in front of him with amusement, waiting for her to pull the jeans down. Brienne did so gracelessly, stamping them furiously from her feet before scooping them up from the floor and throwing them at Jaime’s head.

Laughing, Jaime caught them easily with his left hand and shoved them into the holdall he had dumped by the door on his way in.

Brienne stared at him for a long moment, the flush of anger slowly subsiding from her cheeks only to be replaced by a red rash of embarrassment that spread from the base of her throat as if she suddenly realised she was standing in front of him in a baggy well washed T-shirt, and one not quite long enough to cover her sensible white knickers and strong pale thighs. As a result, the rebellious wisps of wiry blonde hair at the juncture of her legs could clearly be seen escaping the edge of her underwear. Her hand twitched self-consciously by her side as if she thought she should cover herself.

Brienne swallowed, her blue eyes flickering over him repeatedly as he stood loose limbed before her, as if she could not quite see enough of him in one pass.

Jaime felt his cock harden, his own jeans becoming tight enough that he started to wonder about the integrity of his own zipper.

“You might want to put some… um… trousers on,” Jaime swallowed even as he spoke, his voice soft. “That is if you still want to…” he nodded towards the holdall, “or, we could stay here and…”

Jaime tilted his head to one side, raising his brows in a look that he hoped said it all, surprising himself with just how much he suddenly wanted her to choose that instead.

Brienne’s blue eyes burned briefly with a heat that shocked him to the core, before her brilliant gaze tracked to the holdall where the hilt of the prized Oathkeeper could just about be seen peeking through the top of the bag. The ruby red eyes of the Lannister lion there blazed a fiery crimson in the shaft of morning sun that had suddenly decided to cut it’s way across the narrow hallway.

Brienne licked her lips.

“I’ll get my trousers on,” she said.


End file.
